Twinkle Twinkle

Suspense Stories | Dec 25, 2012 | 16 min read
144 Votes, average: 5 out of 5
Suspense Stories

Twinkle Twinkle

Mason Baird
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"I never met my mother. She died mysteriously when I was still a baby. Sometimes I think about what happened. About the past at night, but I try to avoid it. I try to avoid talking about that night she came into my room, and nobody was there…just the voice."

Light from the full moon gave temporarily shine to the world below. The darkness swallowed the lowest part of the troposphere, and the dense levels of fog consumed the civilized streets. The blurry haze of the fog created a hazardous cast of a laminated composition so blinding for the eyes of 3 A.M., through its nightly shadowed, ecliptic gaze of the permeated eclectic eclipse. Insidious signs of iniquitous accelerated at a speed that was assiduously, while entering the rural regional area of Northwest Ohio.

In the town of Lakefort - population of 2, 324, held a family of three in the countryside. The couple - John England, 32, and Sara Redmond, 31, were parents to Claudia lee England, who was only one month old at the time of the beginning summer of 2001. The three lived in a medium-sized farmhouse, surrounded by a cornfield landscape, and a 75-foot brick tower mill in the middle of the field, in front of the farmhouse.

John England would tend to help out the neighbor, Mr. Lainhart, in numerous yard work duties - the baling hay, the feeding of cattle, and the novice project of building a fenced in area around Mr. Lainhart's wife's garden to protect it from unwanted guests. John only worked during the weekends starting at six in the morning to noon, to stop for a lunch break, and to seven at night; maybe eight if there was more work to deal with on the Lainhart Farm. His pay was about fifteen dollars an hour; if he accepted the offer, and once paid, he would walk down the lonely paved road to his house that was not even a quarter of a mile away from the Lainhart Farm. Sometimes he would stop on the way from walking home and take a quick dip in the 20-foot deep pond, which was only accessible if you walked through the maize to attain John's steadfast shortcut to a private property, which was a federal crime under the state government's control if trespassed.
"Fuck the government! I live in Northwest Ohio, where the sun only shines for 180 days of the year, and they think they can stop me by putting up a sign? I work for a living and should be able to take a swim in this pond. Fuck what they say. I‘m hot and I'm sweaty." He told himself, taking his shirt off, pulling his pants down, and kicking his shoes off to jump in.

Throughout the week, John would go into town to try to find anyone who was hiring to earn extra money for the alimentation of Sara and his baby daughter, Claudia. He found work at a textile mill, being a weaver on the weekdays, and repairing any machines that were malfunctioning during the time on the weekends. He hated working there, but he desperately needed the money.

Sara Redmond was 28 when she first met John England through the restaurant business, working at the old diner on Crosser Avenue next to the Fortune of America bank. She was a waitress back then and John was a waiting customer, watching her walk up to his table to take his order. She was an energetic woman who had an amazing work ethic, according to John's first impression. His tip for her was a napkin with his address, 13214 Glenwood Road, and the specific time of nine o'clock written on it in black pen. She noticed the tip after he left for home. She accepted it by showing a smile on her face which was expressed for the majority of the night, especially when she was with John. They went star gazing, and John sang her a lullaby when she was snuggled in between his muscular, farm working arms, soon to be ready, to be sound to sleep…
"Twinkle, twinkle, little girl, Oh, you and I make the world,
Up way above, oh so very high,
Like swaying doves, in the merry sky,
Twinkle, twinkle, little girl,
You make the butterflies spin and swirl,
Oh, it is not enough; I will need you when I die,
If this is true love, I want you all my life.
Twinkle, twinkle, little girl,
Oh, you and I make the world."

The rest was just cuddles of adoration slumber, filled with desirable dreams of purified gratitude. She was lucky to have a guy like John. Anybody would be fortunate to have John.

John proposed to Sara a year later, and the couple became happily wedded. Two years later on May 27th, 2001, Sara gave birth to Claudia Lee England. The name originated from Sara's childhood best friend, Claudia Hollstein. Hollstein died young from an unknown malignant neoplasm growing on her nose and bottom lip, preventing external air to seep through her nostrils and mouth. It caused the deficient ability of olfaction and gustation to occur. She could not smell when supper was done, and worst of all she could not taste it. Everyday since the day she died, she was named "Bark Face" by the bullying townies, but Sara - Sara was always loyal to her, and the only friend that Claudia ever had in her short, downhearted years.

That very night, on June 28th, Sara experienced the voice. The voice of the night, which came to her in dead, whispered echoes of partial silent confrontation. The voice changed the present, and altered the unknown future of life. The voice of an unknown man-like tone that entered the England household because it could; because it was welcomed.

Sara desperately wondered what it was, but never decided to come up with the conclusion of what it really was because she did not want to know what it really was. It frightened her just to think about it. She wondered if the voice was real, or if it was just a glimpse of imaginable fear for herself, and for her beloved daughter, Claudia. Whatever it was; it always seemed to be welcomed in the England household every night during the time of when the black depths of the pupils stare at their prize. Exactly when the spiritual presence of the clock, bypasses the hour of midnight by three revolutions. When the minute hand was pointing directly up, and when the hour hand was pointing directly to the right, making a 90-degree angle, that was when the voice was heard.

The eerie activity continued to occur. The next day when John heard a loud scream, penetrating outside the farmhouse walls, to outside, where he was at mowing the lawn, he quickly rushed off the mower and ran into the house. He thought someone had died, which the scream that was made. He was right about the dying, but it was something that died. Something that clenched in between the teeth of the mouth of madness. John could not believe what it was, or how it got in the kitchen of his house, but he deeply knew for sure it was not a normal happening. On all four limbs, bending its head down, arching its body, turned sideways, and starring wholly into the eyes of John, was an undomesticated feline breed of the Sphynx. The slender, hairless cat had a gray field mouse pierced through its teeth, which was still alive, stuttering in its squealing body. Plethoric amounts of blood, dripped from the Sphynx's mouth, and trickled across the kitchen floor, practically reaching Sara's feet, causing her to climb up onto the kitchen table. The piercing of the field mouse's body reacted as the squirting of leaks out of the miniature incisions, which were made. John picked up a wooden stool that was behind him, and threatened the Sphynx with it.
"Get out right now! Get, get!" He yelled, waving the stool above his head, ready to swing away. The Sphynx dropped the field mouse on the kitchen floor, and by the way, the field mouse looked - drenched in its own blood, and mutilated to the point of just fur and bone; it made John realize that this was no ordinary house or wildcat. This cat represented the traditions of evil through its skeletal structure, and by the way, it started to violently hiss at John. As soon as John went to swing the stool, the Sphynx began to run throughout the house, gone up the stair steps, and lead its way to the upstairs hallway. John ran upstairs, and when he reached the top step, he saw that the Sphynx ran into Claudia's room, and by the hearing of crying, it awoke Claudia from her afternoon nap. When John rushed to her room, and pushed the door open with all of strength in his body and the willpower in his mind, he witnessed for a flashed second, the owner of the Sphynx. It seemed like eternity for John, as he mentally visualized a black figure, painted up against the wall, representing a cast of a shaded shadow. The figure bended down and grabbed the Sphynx, looked at John for what he thought was for five minutes, and glanced at Claudia, pointing a finger at her, and bringing it back to its lips to shush her. The figure then disappeared in thin air. In reality, the black figure was there, revealing itself for legitimately three seconds, but for John, his mind told him different.

The event was by far the most disturbing event ever encountered by John since he first witnessed his grandfather at the age of eleven become a human fertilizer when he got sucked into the suction of a combine harvester and bled to death right in front of him. John remembers his grandfather's right arm, and left leg, amputated by the machinery. The rest of the lacerated body resembled a dog toy that became repeatedly chewed, and spitted out. John stared into his grandfather's deathly eyes, as he struggled to breathe functionally, trying to tell John to find help fast, but it was too late. His grandfather was already dead.

"John. John, where are you? John….John!….JOHN! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Sara screamed at the top of her lungs, outside, in the pouring cold rain. It was almost the hour of evil and John was nowhere to be found. Sara was drenched from head to toe, as she ran through the cornfield, screaming his name, in echoing musical verses. She ran, pushing through the stalks of corn, telling herself she needs to find John before it is too late. Before the voice comes back to haunt. Oh, it always comes back to haunt.

Sara found herself at the private property where John used to come and swim in the pond. There was a small abandoned house next to the pond where Sara ran up to, to find shelter from all the rain. As she jumped up onto the porch, Sara noticed there was a "NO TRESPASSING" sign on the front door of the house, and worst of all, there was a padlock, denying Sara its access to enter. Sara slid her back down against the door, curdled up into a ball, and cried about the missing of her husband, John. He was nowhere to be found, and her crying was not helping her find him. "Where could he have gone to?" she thought to herself.

As she got up from the porch, still sobbing, Sara remembered something; she remembered it was about that time. It was about that time the voice came, and Claudia was home alone, sound asleep. Sara ran immediately back into the cornfield, and out of her expectation, the rain suddenly stopped. She silently focused on the situation she was in; sky cloudless, which shined bright with startled stars that she vividly scrutinized. The gazing ended when an unanticipated, calm laughter was heard promptly behind Sara. She turned around slowly, and halfway, her perspective glanced through the corner of her cornea, and saw what she thought was a little girl. All the way turned around, she stood scared and shocked at what was in fact - according to her correct vision - a little girl. She was in a pure white dress, playing a game of jump rope, with a smiling grin on her face. Sara wanted to scream, but she could not. The little girl gave a mental image inside Sara's head, which told her that she was her future daughter, Claudia. Sara could not believe what she saw. The little girl looked exactly like a seven-year-old future Claudia.
"Mommy. Mommy, is that you?" The little girl asked. Sara was completely amazed at the sight, that she closed her eyes, held out her arms, and took a few steps forward to the little girl.
"Yes, it's me, hunny. I'm your mommy!" Sara spoke up and said with happy and sad ambivalence. As Sara felt the warmth of the little girl against her reaching hands, she gave her a lovable, secured hug. Sara brushed the little girl's soft, brunette hair, and opened her eyes. With her eyes wide open, Sara continued to brush the little girl's hair. When Sara brushed, she felt a latch of the little girl's hair attached to the palm of her hand. The little girl's hair fell out slowly from her head, and in a matter of time, all the hair was gone, and the little girl became bald. Sara stepped back and witnessed her seven year old, future daughter, Claudia, become transformed from a sweet little girl, playing jump rope, to a bald, skeletal, demonic, little girl figure, playing a game of jump rope with a human large intestine. Sara screamed, and with torpid motion, turned around to meet an invisible, involuntary, brick wall of an illusionary, delusional allusion. Analgesia blocked out the terror and collision pain for Sara; all was seeped out of the heightened feeling through her constant, unconscious conscience. It was all a nightmare.

When Sara awakened from her delirium, she was struck to see that John was not in the bed. She got up from bed and noticed the time was 3:05. Sara's heart sank in great fear, as she went and hustled to Claudia's bedroom. Nobody was there, fortunately; just Claudia, sleeping away in her crib. Sara walked over to Claudia and tucked her in, then gave her a peck on the forehead. When she told Claudia goodnight, a floor pounding from the corner of the bedroom, sprinted heavily and riotously to the dorsal appearance of her. Sara stood there completely still, and full of supernatural horror. Her eyes were sealed, and tears started to drown her perspective, ordering the lids to open. As they opened, the supernatural continued. Sara looked down helplessly at Claudia, wishing she could tell her to run away. The ghostly presence stood directly one inch from Sara's back; as it breathed casually, it gave a sense of warm air to the back of her neck. She needed to scream for help, but she did not do it; the spiritual occurrence behind her was forbidding her to do so. Then all of a sudden, the spiritual presence was gone.

Sara, for a single second, did not hesitate when she grabbed Claudia from her crib, and ran out of the room, to go downstairs. She barged the bathroom door open and slammed it when her and Claudia were fully in, and then locked the door, and proceeded to switch on the light. They hid in the bathtub with the translucent curtains covering their existence to the voice inside the house. Sara peeked behind the curtains, and saw something that will change her life forever. On a stack of cooking magazines, laid a depressing card halfway opened.
"I will be right back, sweetie. Don't you worry one bit." Sara promised to her daughter, getting out from the bathtub to check the unknown card. As she picked up the card, Sara noticed it was a card that nobody would like to receive in the mail. It was a card for death. When Sara flipped the cover title, which said: "Sorry for your lost" back, she read: Oh, Sara, I'm so sorry! Why did such a dramatic disaster like this happen just right when she was born?! We are currently praying for your lost, hun. Hugs and kisses go out to you and your beautiful daughter, Claudia - R.I.P. John England. Gone but not forgotten! Hugs and kisses, xoxo! Love, mom&dad

A deep pierce stabbed Sara's heart until she stumbled drunk-like to the bathroom sink. Turning the cold water on all the way, Sara bended down and let the water drench her whole face to the point where tears suddenly started to dry themselves onto the eyelashes and the cold water seemed like a hot sensation to her shaking - almost to the point of fainting - face. The soothing fitted her nicely, as she closed her eyes, wishing to dream away to another dimensional event than the one occurred. But that only made it worse than it really was.

Ten minutes went by, and the cold, pouring water from the faucet succeeded to absorb her unenlightened self-esteem she had for herself. John was dead and she only remembered the memories she had with him when he wasn't there; he was a hallucinated hologram of the past that lived with her and her daughter. He was only real once, when they first met at the local diner where Sara worked. Sara could not even remember when John died; no memory popped to her head about him. Was she losing her mind?

As she turned the water off, she asended her head upright; the black, long banes of her hair split her vision in multiple sections. She tried to look closely at the reflection of herself in the mirror, but she rejected the feeling to do so, because she could see the intruder; she could see the voice. The voice not only made vocals; it made an appearance to itself in the mirror. Well, what the mirror's light reflected was a tall, olive-white skinned humanoid. Its longitude overpowered its latitude, referring to size, as it was crouched behind Sara's right shoulder. Sara took her hands and began to push aside her wet banes; the process of doing so urged a suicidal attempt for Sara. She wanted to open the bathroom cabinet and retrieve a razor for the yearning slit she wanted on her lumpy, dry throat. She wanted to do it to introduce the pain to her before the voice did so, and she wanted to be blinded by her blood flow being surged out abundantly on the mirror to break the reflected image into pieces. She wanted to do it; but doesn't everyone want to do things?

A brunette middle-aged woman in her pajamas stood starring at her reflection. An unknown humanoid stood directly behind her, crouched down beside her right shoulder like always. She could not see the humanoid, but she could feel him, and even hear him, whispering into her ear the words of the past: "Twinkle, twinkle." She remembered those words; those were the words sang to her by the lover she seemed to still be alive and well. The one she could still feel in her life around the house talking to her. Or what she thought.

Hard breathing was induced by the humanoid behind her. It sounded as if the thing was about to die, but that's what it wanted you to think. Sara opened her eyes to see herself in the mirror; herself and the humanoid resting his chin on Sara's right shoulder, breathing to its last breathe. Sara could see its face, and it marked the evil that occurred in her nightmare; a little girl who looked like a future Claudia. The face had its bottom lip curled under revealing the red inside flesh, and its tongue slid out on top of the curled lip. The facial expression resembled a pair of a new set of lips; lips that were fat looking and puckering for a kiss. Lips that made Sara scream, and even scream more when the voice started making gasping breathes of air, and opened its shaped lips, and gave an enunciation of a "boo" sound. It repeated the consonant of the "O" sound for what seemed like forever for Sara. The enunciation ended with a "chie", which formed the pronunciation of the word, "boochie". The screaming of Sara escalated a penetrating paranoia for herself that the scream popped a blood vessel in her left eye. She sealed her eyes instantaneously, and escaped strategically to the dream world.

A decision like this is a required choice for Sara. She needed her sleep anyway. And the only way you receive the full eight hour rest, is when you awake in that comfy bed of yours in the morning. She did so, and awoke to the early morning shine blazing in lightly to her small bedroom. The atmosphere felt outlandish than Sara's pleasantly, astounded mood. It was 7:17, and she could hear a melody of a forgettable flow of rhyme. It was coming from behind her, through the wall, in the other room. The bedroom of her daughter, Claudia. Sara placed an ear onto the wall, and listened closely. Waves of two voices, evaporated and filtered into Sara's mind, which ordered her to cringe her feet up against her soft pillow. Her eavesdrops found a moment of purified silence…..and nothing. There was nothing,…but….silent….then… Sara took her ear off and moved her knees off the pillow in a quiet maneuver, and got up from bed. When her feet touched the carpet, a dead drop was felt from her. It felt like all her organs failed and shut off, oprerating her body into a paralyzed state of motion. She stood there blank, and speechless. Everything went through her mind within seconds. All she ever knew about John being with her all this time was just a living lie. He never went to work at the Lainhart Farm, and he was never a weaver during the week. He was just a memory of the past to Sara. But what she was witnessing in her bedroom, was in fact reality, and standing in the corner of Sara's bed was the voice; the voice that looked like her love, John. It was John, and he smiled at her. Sara wished to smile back, but thought it wasn't real. But this time, she was wrong. Since John was just a memory in the past to Sara, he disappeared, and never came back to her. He only showed up because Sara still believed he was alive and real, but now it's all changed.

She went on in life, not thinking of John England anymore. His name did not exist to her mindset, but it did exist to someone else's. One night, about a year later, Claudia was awakened and started to cry. Sara went in her bedroom, and saw him. She saw John
holding Claudia, rocking her back and forth, singing the lovable lullaby.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little girl,
Oh, you and I make the world,
Up way above, oh so very high,
Like swaying doves, in the merry sky,
Twinkle, twinkle, little girl,
You make the butterflies spin and swirl,
Oh, it is not enough; I will need you when I die,
If this is true love, I want you all my life,
Twinkle, twinkle, little girl,
Oh, you and I make the world."

If one was to drive by the household, one would hear the screaming of Sara Redmond, and the continous crying of her daughter. The daughter of John England himself. The daughter named Claudia Lee England.

"When they told me my mother died, I believed them fully. When they told me my father died, I did not believe them. I told them he was still alive, and they told me I was crazy. Maybe, I said. But I still believed my father was still alive because he was standing there right beside me, as they questioned my answers in the orphanage I lived in since that night. I now live somewhere else than the orphanage. A place, which defined the name they claimed me to be. Crazy." - Claudia Lee England

"Those who believe will see the true meaning in life, and everything it is made up to be. If you do not already know, God is watching you from above, and the Devil is always right behind you, following every footstep you have walked in, and every time you turn your head to look behind you, he disappears back into your mind. He is there at the consequences you create, and he will remember you for what you have done during life. God is just a substituted blanket of security to comfort your personal problems and life chocies. He is not there, guiding you through your life. The one who makes those decisions, is the one who controls the arms, legs, hands, eyes, and mind of the human body. That very person, is the person that speaks and writes what he or she wants, and he or she are not afraid of who hears or who decides to read what they say. That person is you. ~ Infamous McMason

Source: http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Twinkle,_Twinkle

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Velma golden Dec 28, 2012

I agree,allthough a great story line, a lot of long words, that I understand, but many other readers might not. I did notice that further down in the story, it seemed to change to more of a adolesent than, some one older, i may be wrong,but that is what i

The Troll Dec 27, 2012

You have a great story, but please, put the thesaurus away, OK? Your butchery of the King's English is horrifying. Use simpler words unless you can use the tense correctly. You have the potential to be a good writer.

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